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❛ "you're so pure," he says / does he know, i'm forsaken / the original sinner. ❜
THE FRUITS// PARIS PALOMA
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EISHA ALWAYS LOVED THE COLD, and since finding snow, she only loved it more. Truly she hoped that her time on Khorm, despite being a Separatist system, would hold a snowball fight or two — between fighting battle droids, of course.
Though it would seem like every snow-covered planet she visited just had to be paired with some egotistical bastard—
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Eisha tried to stay quiet beside Wolffe. The Commander permanently rested a hand on her arm as a reminder to not make any remarks she'd regret.
Except she definitely wouldn't.
Huffing gently, both Captain and Commander cringed at Major Ozzel's gloating; though the latter hid it far better. Both had been stuck under Ozzel's command, Plo entrusting the two to remain in charge of the Wolfpack as he scouted ahead with Master Fisto. Leaving them with Ozzel, a man known for getting the work done.
But, having no care for the loss of his troopers.
Picking up a droid head, he gleamed at the Padawan and clone; blissfully unaware of the drastic number of men they had lost, "We crushed them!"
Wolffe's grip on her tightened.
Clearing his throat, the Commander spoke up, "Sir, the remnants of the droid army have retreated into the mountains..."
"Most likely regrouping, and rallying their forces as we speak," The Padawan finished, brow raised as the Major's confidence only grew.
